Harry had left Hermione after their talk. He knew she was still confused, why he'd asked about the Ministry, about leadership, about what she would do if the world was suddenly on her shoulders.
But she didn't need to know, not yet.
He was planning something for the future, because he'd be damned if he was going to try to enjoy his life in the future and have fools keep coming at him. He was patient, well, now, anyway, but he wasn't saint-patient.
He had no problem "removing flies" that disturbed him too much. This new power had granted him an overwhelming sense of calm, a detached perspective, but it also had a downside.
It could be said he was less forgiving of those who would willingly stand in his way.
The days of him being a piece in Dumbledore's game were long over. And while he wouldn't really care much about the blood on his hands, he knew his friends didn't share his morals.
So for now, He would set the stage and then, when the time was right, he would make his move. He sighed as he let the cool water from the showers pour down on him, washing away the sweat and dust.
By the time he was done and had headed towards his room, he was relaxed, until he froze at the sight before him.
Ron.
Going through his things.
A dark flash of anger surged through Harry.
He hated people touching his belongings. The Dursleys had drilled that into him, an unshakeable instinct born from years of having his privacy violated.
He had made it clear since the first year when Ron had wanted to see his Nimbus 2000 that his personal space was something he guarded ferociously.
It was a line that, once crossed, ignited a cold fury he struggled to contain. People didn't have the right to just open up your things without your permission, and he didn't remember giving Ron that permission recently.
His hands clenched at his sides, his instincts screaming at him to lash out. He wanted to throw his fist through the wall, to roar at the invasion, but he forced himself to breathe.
He needed to handle this with a level head. He let out a cough, a small, controlled sound that was still loud enough to break the tense silence, drawing the boy's attention to him.
It seemed to startle Ron as he all but jumped and turned to face him, his eyes wide. Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron, expecting the boy to be ashamed, agitated, guilty, or something, but of all the emotions he thought he would see, he didn't expect happiness.
Ron walked over to him, a grin spreading across his face. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice a little cold, a sharp edge that didn't seem to register with the oblivious boy.
"Mate, good thing you're here! I've been looking for you," Ron said with a wide smile.
"Looking for me? Why?"
"Dumbledore came looking for you, apparently it was something important," Ron told him.
"Ohhh, the Headmaster was looking for me?" Harry asked, keeping his voice leveled. His mind was a whirlwind of thought.
'What was that bastard up to now?' he thought, a familiar weariness washing over him. The old man had kept his distance the entire school year, ever since Harry had started actively avoiding him and his manipulative attempts.
Dumbledore had been so far distant from Harry's life that the sudden attention was a red flag the size of a dragon. Harry was so done with the man. So utterly, completely done.
He was tired of the manipulations, the secrets, and the lies. He had spent years as a puppet in Dumbledore's game.
He was a godslayer now. He had dealt with the Dark Lord and his minions. The old man's time was over. His time to pull the strings had passed. It was his turn to be pulled, to be used, and to be discarded.
Dumbledore's time was over. His time as a wannabe god was over. And Harry would make sure he was there to watch him fall.
"So what did he say?" Harry asked Ron, the knot of suspicion tightening in his gut, a cold, hard glint in his eyes.
"Well, he said he was looking to ask you if he could borrow your Invisibility Cloak. He said that it was important that they find a way to get information on Voldemort, and that he wanted to ask you, but since he didn't see you, he asked if I could bring it to him."
Ron suddenly stopped as if he realized that something was wrong before he opened his mouth and started to stutter as he spoke, "I know you don't like it when people go through your things, and I just forgot." He paused and then spoke firmly but softly.
"I'm sorry, I should have looked for you and asked." Ron knew Harry, he had been his friend since the first year, and he was his best mate. Yes, he was jealous of Harry, and yes, he and Harry had had their shares of fights, but he always had Harry's back, and he knew Harry had his, or at least he hoped that was still the case. He felt a little down, his moment of pride at being Dumbledore's chosen messenger deflating under Harry's cold stare.
Harry wasn't really paying much attention from the moment Ron mentioned the cloak. His mind was running a thousand miles an hour. What did Dumbles want his cloak for? Fortunately, he didn't need to think too long.
The Hallows, his mind supplied with a jolt of alarm.
The man was trying to get all three Hallows.
Fuck.
'I forgot them, ' he cursed in his mind. He had been so focused on his own plans, his new powers, that he had completely neglected the small matter of the powerful magical artifacts that were floating around in Dumbledore's and his own possession.
Yes, he had told himself he was going to take the stone and wand from the old man, but he had forgotten and let it slip his mind.
He was so used to treating them as narrative props from the books and movies, but that was wrong, this was a world where gods actually were, where they roamed and caused destruction.
Who was to say that the Hallows were just a few powerful items? They could really have been made by Death itself, a thought that sent a shiver down his spine.
And it seemed this deranged old man, this meticulous manipulator who sought ultimate power for his "Greater Good," wanted them. He felt furious at himself for his lapse in judgment before he calmed down, forcing his mind back into his carefully constructed persona.
"Harry, are you mad?" Ron asked, his voice now laced with genuine worry.
He sighed. He knew the redhead wasn't really a bad person, but sometimes he just wanted to...urgh. He let out an audible sigh. "A little," he replied. He walked over to his things as he started to dress up.
He wasn't going to have a conversation with his friend in just towels. "Ron, look, I know that it was important, but I would have appreciated it if you had at least asked me, even if you can't find me, at least just wait a little, especially since this is something that's important to me."
He dressed up as he turned around and looked at him. "You know it's the only thing I have from my dad. Do you know how I'd feel if I came back and just found it missing?" he said, his voice softer now, looking Ron right in the eye.
The redhead seemed to understand as he looked away, a wave of guilt washing over his face. Harry grabbed a bedsheet, folded it, and tucked it into his drawers.
"But I also get that it's important," he said as he put his right hand on Ron's shoulders before he gave the boy a smile. "And if we want to defeat Voldemort, I guess I can't allow Dumbledore to borrow it, even if me and him don't get along much these days."
He pulled his invisibility cloak from the drawers and gave it to Ron. "I'm heading out to meet Daphne." He saw Ron grimace at that but didn't say anything. That got a small smile from him, it showed that while Ron didn't like the fact that he was going out with the Slytherin, he kept his mouth shut for his friend.
His friend was definitely getting better at that. "So give Dumbledore yourself. Besides, I don't want to see the man myself," he whispered the last part, but he was sure Ron heard.
"Okay, thank you, mate," Ron said, a weight visibly lifted from his shoulders.
"Hey, when we're both free and you're off prefect duties, why don't we have fun together?" His face seemed to fall at the mention of prefect duties, and that got a laugh from Harry. "Already regretting it?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, if I knew things would be like that, maybe I would have said no to the badge," he said like a man being sent off to die.
"Hey, look on the bright side, you and Hermione alone, that's something, right?" Harry said with a teasing smile. It seemed to take Ron a few seconds before he understood what Harry was implying.
His ears went scarlet as he tried to say it wasn't like that, and Harry just kept teasing him, a wide smirk plastered on his face.
Finally, Ron muttered something unintelligible, grabbing the cloak and practically running to Dumbledore as he escaped Harry's relentless teasing, leaving the godslayer in the room alone.
The moment Ron left, the smile on his face changed to a frown. Dumbledore really was a bastard, he was really trying to use even his friend. A slow burn of rage started in Harry's gut.
Oh, this man has just sped up his death time. He stood there, simmering for a long while before an owl noise broke his thoughts. It was a grey owl carrying a letter. He reached out and took the letter.
It was from Tonks. It seemed she was coming to Hogwarts and wanted to talk to him, and… she wanted to talk with Daphne, too.
He seemed to freeze a little at that, the smile returning to his face.
This was interesting. Very interesting. This could go one of two ways. It could be a disaster of epic proportions or a master stroke of serendipity.
He imagined the two women meeting. Tonks, the loud, boisterous, and open auror. And Daphne, the cool, reserved, and calculating Slytherin.
They were so different, yet for some reason, he just couldn't help but be attracted to them both, and now these two women would be meeting. He should be somewhat afraid, but he couldn't help but wonder about it.
A smirk grew on his face as he thought about it.
Things were progressing fast. He had already dealt with Voldemort and Snape, now, he had to deal with Dumbledore. He was looking forward to it, and he wanted to make the old man suffer long for everything, but it seemed the man wanted to go on his 'next adventure' early.
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